


Pelt

by thecountessolivia



Series: The Anastomosis Snapshots [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Chest Hair Appreciation, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecountessolivia/pseuds/thecountessolivia
Summary: Will in the wilderness.In other words: plotless chest hair porn





	Pelt

Will dreams of the two of them in a wide open field where a huge bonfire burns. He can smell the wood smoke and feel the bitter bite of the cold air. In the dream, Will takes Hannibal by the hand and they walk into the flames together.

He wakes with mounds of warm white sheets pulled half way down his body. The weak winter dawn has broken and the light streams in through parted curtains the color of blood. There are two empty wine glasses on the windowsill, a few dark drops left in the bottom of each. They weren't there last night. Through a tucked away speaker, a piano is playing something soft and sombre, orderly and baroque.

It's clear to Will that he's been laid out as the centerpiece of a carefully thought out tableau. And that's just fine with him. He stretches, yawns, then cranes his neck to look down his body. He's guessed right: the covers have been folded back just below the pale crescent of his scar. The three suck marks around it have blossomed over night into warm red flowers. Will smiles and begins to stroke them just as Hannibal steps out of the bathroom.

Hannibal pauses and looks. And looks. Will looks back, blinking slowly. His fingers brush over his belly, then down to where the sheets have been artfully arranged to highlight the outline of his morning hardon.

The seconds tick by.

"Done?"

Hannibal nods slowly. "For now."

"Then come here."

Hannibal stalks closer. He's wearing loose red pajama bottoms and nothing else. His hair is damp from the shower. When he gets to the edge of the bed Will is already crawling across the sheets to reach him. He kneels up, hooks two fingers into Hannibal's waistband, then leans into Hannibal's chest.

He's caught firmly by the hips. He breathes in deeply: clean skin and heat, cedar and bergamot soap. A slow, steady heartbeat, just audible. Tiny beads of water lie caught in the dense mesh of Hannibal's chest hair and Will cannot help but flick at them with the tip of his tongue. He sucks off the droplets one by one and when he's done, he nuzzles in deep, one cheek and then the other, again and again.

"Mm. Thanks," he murmurs, half smothered by all that warm thickness. The smattering of silver hairs shimmers in the blurred vision of his proximity.

He feels a short laughing exhale. "For?"

"Growing it out for me."

A kiss is smudged across Will's hair. "I prefer it trimmed. But your reaction—" Hannibal's fingers ghost over the front of Will's boxers then make swift work of opening the tiny buttons there. "—overrules my preference."

Will looks down to see his cock freed through the front of his underwear, tugged and coaxed closer to rest against the softer trail of hair below Hannibal's navel. He rocks his hips into the sensation, sighs and mouths at Hannibal's breastbone until the tight rough tangle of curls there make his lips raw.

"It's not just my reaction."  
  
"No?"  
  
A swift tackle and Will's got Hannibal on the bed, below him. A few graceless seconds of self-wrangling and he's divested himself of his boxers. And then he has Hannibal pinned tight between his spread thighs, his bare ass settled firmly on Hannibal's crotch.

"You want to know why."

Hannibal thrusts up once against him, eyes fixed on Will's face. "I do."

Will's hands are back on Hannibal's chest. He rakes his nails through the hair, kneads the roughness into his palms, pauses to pluck at Hannibal's nipples until he hears a soft audible sigh and feels Hannibal's cock twitch beneath him.

"Are you envious, Will?" Hannibal says with the smallest of smirks, hands sliding in unison down Will's own chest, warm and broad over smooth skin.

Will shivers, arches into the touch. "What, like a Freudian kind of envy? No. I like it because it suits you. You know it does. You know why."

Hannibal's tongue runs over his lips. "Move closer."

Will does, inching up over Hannibal's stomach.

"Lift up."

Again, Will does. And then Hannibal's hands divide. One dives under the bridge of Will's thighs. A single finger slips between Will's cheeks and feels, caressing, for trace slickness from last night's fucking. Then it slides in, so so easily.

"Fuck." Will's shaking voice is muffled by Hannibal's other hand, brought up to cover his mouth.

"Lick."

Will's eyes fall shut and he laps at Hannibal's palm. The next thing he feels is a firm, spit-slicked fist wrapping around his cock. He swears again softly and rolls his hips between the two currents of pleasure.

"Tell me more. Keep touching." Hannibal's voice is so low that Will feels it vibrate through his thighs. He sinks into Hannibal's chest hair again, tries to grab it in small handfuls. The hand on his dick moves in slow wet strokes, keeping rhythm with the finger fucking his ass.

"A beast beneath fine tailoring," Will says, eyes still pinched shut. "You never give anyone a glimpse of this. I bet most of your lovers only ever saw you— tidied up."

Hannibal's fist works him faster now. Will wants to whine every time Hannibal's finger leaves him only to push in again.

"Anything else, Will?" There's the slightest strain in Hannibal's voice.

"Yeah. It looks fucking good on you."

"So look."

Will looks down in time to see another drop of precome trickle down from his cock to join the others caught in the thick hair beneath. He grits his teeth but still cannot help the groan that leaves him.

"God. Fuck. Can I come on you?"

Hannibal's lips are parted, a glint of sharp teeth, eyes feverish and almost black. He works Will's cock roughly in reply, thumb teasing the head, two fingers now deep inside, scissoring fast.

Will dissolves into drawn out moans. He's tugging at Hannibal's chest hair, scratching, too hard.

"Keep your eyes open, Will. I want you to see it."

Will jerks his head in a nod, mouth open and gasping. His hips move frantically, reaching, shoving into Hannibal's hands.

The tight ball of pleasure low in his belly unspools, radiates brightly through his synapses and sends short convulsions through his thighs. He can only shudder and stare as long white ropes of his come splatter hot over Hannibal's chest.

It may be seconds or minutes before reality reassembles itself around him and Will becomes aware of his body slumping down beside Hannibal. He's drawn into Hannibal's arms, soft kisses landing against his brow.

"You're gonna need another shower. Sorry," Will mutters. He dabs his fingers into the cooling mess he's made, slicks it into the salt and pepper mane.

"Under the circumstances, the least I would expect is for you to join me and help deal with the aftermath," Hannibal says and pulls Will's hand to the hard line of his erection. "Besides, you really ought to finish what you started."

Will can see himself already: on his knees under steaming jets of water, mouth stretched wide around Hannibal's cock. He smiles into Hannibal's skin. It's shaping up to be a pretty decent morning.


End file.
